


Chapter Fifty-Eight: Dissonance

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [59]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Separated by three hundred years and a branch in a timeline, Sandstorm and Black Arachnica share reservations in getting involved with anything regarding the <i>Lost Light</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Eight: Dissonance

Life will move in patterns  
Circling for all time  
Repeating all accomplishments  
Repeating all the failures  
Life will end in patterns  
— ["Dissonance"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XVXaXNN_Pw) by Lost Signal from  _Catharsis_

Iacon Proper Underground

Three Hundred Stels from now

"Well," Black Arachnia grumbled as she and Botanica observed the aerial Vehicons abandon their positions surrounding the _Lost Light_ , "that's something you don't see everyday."

Botanica trilled, an angry sound. "Likely regrouping with the main unit. But why would they abandon the ship?"

The arachnid shrugged her front two legs. "My guess? The generator's reached critical mass and is about to blow."

"You're rather nonchalant about that."

"Well, wouldn't matter where we run; it'll take us all out. Might as well accept it."

"By that, why would drones care whether they're about to be blown up?" Botanica countered. "They're refortifying."

"And leave a virtual nucleon mine for us to control?"

 _< <Botanica! Black Arachnia!>>_ Skyfire hailed. _< <What's the situation with the others?>>_

"I hate it when he does that," Black Arachnia groused. Louder, she reported, "Whatever happened to Pantera, she's gone off on her own — "

" — a startling revelation — " Botanica flipped one of her hands with a roll of her optics.

" — and the boss monkey's got the rest of them in recon mode. We're here to give you sapper support."

 _< <Not much you can do here,>>_ Skyfire admitted. _< <Things are getting dicey, and I'd rather keep those unaffected by the generator to a minimum. Anything weird with Rattrap and 'Tera?>>_

"Rattrap?" Botanica repeated. "Why — "

_< <He was caught in the blast radius, just outside the force field. Me and 'Tera were closer to the epicentre.>>_

"Big cat's gone off on her own, on the offencive with a half-cocked plan, if that counts," Black Arachnia reported.

 _< <Yeah, I've got her some cover, not much, though.>>_ A pause. _< <I've got a plan. It's a desperate one, but it'll give us the upper hand if it works.>>_

"And if it does not work?" Botanica questioned.

_< <Well, if everything is indeed connected, the Oracle may create a feedback loop, waking up the metrotitan, thus inciting a rampage through the Proper. In theory. Granted, I've never been able to actually test my hypotheses in practical settings — quantum physics and the like — you trust me?>>_

Botanica was about to say something, but Black Arachnia interrupted. "In a word, no." The former Predacon narrowed her optics. "Sorry, kid, but some things you can't forget."

 _"Until we get the ship's geniuses up-and-at'em to put their collectives together, we've got little choice,"_ an unfamiliar broadcast cut through Skyfire's transmission. _"Your boss bot asked me to run relay between teams. And best we can tell, we're all running red, so we're on the same page."_

"Who are you?" Botanica demanded.

_"Chief Communications Officer Blaster, corporally challenged but still kicking out the jams like there's no tomorrow. Also currently the ranking officer of the Lost Light unless Mags, Drift and/or Red comes forward. All of us can hash out the details over a hot cuppa later."_

"Not the strangest thing I've witnessed," Black Arachnia growled. "Okay, fine, saying we believe you: what's your plan, kid?"

_< <You know how a quantum generator works, right?>>_

"Yeah, it flaunts the laws of physics in the most spectacular, oftentimes disastrous, way possible."

"And old tech," Botanica added. "The transwarp engines were a vast improvement on efficiency and safety."

 _"Oh, the sappers would love to hear that,"_ Blaster commented.

 _< <Well, that's moot at this point,>>_ Skyfire groused. _< <Right now, we have control of the generator, and we need to keep it that way.>>_

"What I cannot figure out is why Megatron would be interested in it," Botanica brooded. "He had access to all our current technology. The transwarp coils are more stable—"

"You nailed it," Black Arachnia retorted.

 _< <Transwarp coils are stable — too stable. They're built so that if they fail, they simply stop. Completely contained. Quantum generators can warp space and time around them, bend reality. They're fold engines on high-test circuit boosters. And that's when they're working to spec. So tell, me, which would you rather have,>>_ Skyfire allowed a pause for dramatics, _< <If you could go back in time with the intention to change the future, only to find that what you did was the reason why the present is the way it is, or warp reality in the here and now, which would you do?>>_ He did not wait for a response. _< <We need to hold the generators.>>_

"I'd feel more comfortable," Black Arachnia muttered, "if we knew we could trust him."

 _"Talk to me, Legs,"_ Blaster hailed; the sharpness of his transmission indicating he had narrowed the frequency for her audio only. _"Give me the dirt on the feather duster."_

"You want dirt?" Black Arachnia harrumphed. "You got it."

*

_Wreckers' Spoils_

Now

There was only so many ports one could hit, so far a prepaid currency card would go, before Sandstorm voiced how seriously fragged they were. After four decacycles, while normally a short hop on board a ship with fold engines, was wearing on the already suspicious triple-changer. His one ally, Octane, had been seduced — for once by means other than a pretty mech or a quick shanix — and was cooperating with the three _über_ -Minibots.

The brush with the Benzuli Expanse was the shove off the ledge.

The Autobot triple-changer kept himself busy with inventory, locating the holds and hidden caches, divvying weapons, ammo, and engex they could spare to barter and sell at those ports they did stop at; Octane agreed to help with the transactions, as well as, much to Sandstorm's dismay, Pantera.

The fact that she was scary good at negotiating prices had him scrambling for a foot hold on the proverbial cliff.

Sandstorm had brought up his reservations to Octane, who did not seem at all fazed. "Relax, Sandy," the larger triple-changer grinned. "Everything'll work out."

He knew something. And what bothered Sandstorm was that Octane was not sharing.

A bazaar trip to Reicere to barter for fuel cells gave Sandstorm the chance to corner the felinoid Autobot. Where Octane was loading nucleon, the orange and black Autobot waited until Pantera had completed the transaction before clearing his throat. "Got a moment? We need to talk."

Pantera looked up, her optics clear, Matrix blue. "Absolutely. Someplace quiet? Neutral? There's a cafe in the exchange where we won't be overheard."

Yes, there was a cafe, a Wandering Star affiliate that only served various non-inebriating beverages. During the Legion Conflict, they had used it exclusively during their runs through this part of the Arm for bartering the shadier deals. That Pantera knew about it, picked it....

"What's your affiliate clan?" Sandstorm blurted.

She grinned, exposing fang. "Clan of the Shadow, my friend. I'm surprised it took you this long to ask that."

"Forgive me," he grumbled, tone acerbic, "but I've been preoccupied."

"Understandable," she nodded, leading the way to the currency exchange, an avenue of banks from parent systems, each with their hired guards frisking and screening the patrons who entered. At a crossroads sat The Hag and Hungry Goblin, an open-air eatery with a patio. Pantera led the charge, giving Sandstorm her back, and, with a gesture — thumb out, two fingers erect, the last bent — to the Tauran waitperson on duty, Pantera took the table against the wall, again, giving him the choice seat of observing the rest of the patio and the street. The Tauran, without prompt, brought an appropriate chair for the smaller Autobot, and queued up the menu on the screen before bowing.

Why does she trust me? Still wary, he sat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Things have changed considerably in three hundred stels," Pantera initiated, propping her elbows on the table's surface and steepling her fingers, "and, as it is my nature, I adapt to survive. Even if profitable, even without threat, I've been wet-wired from the get-go to survive. That being said, Sandstorm, I'd like to present to you something only you would know about, you and two others. And then you may ask me questions."

Two others? Well, at this point, Octane would have blabbed —

"Not Octane." The corner of her mouth flicked upward. "It would have been just before you obtained the Spoils. There had been an interrogation. Not much of one, really, because the Legion trooper gave most of the information needed without much convincing. But your crew wanted more, not just the scientific aspect but also Jhiaxus's plans."

Sandstorm was about to protest, but she held up one finger; under her curled fingers, he saw a flash of red against the black metal, an etched spiral signifying a mercenary of the Clan of the Shadow.

The fuel in his tank soured as suspicion crept in.

"There had been an...incident. Starscream had managed to wrest your weapon from your grip and shoot the prisoner. Official account.

"Truth is," Pantera leaned forward, the wise, collected mask she wore dissolving into a furrowed brow, off-kilter grin that for over thirteen stels had belonged to his commander, companion, and friend, "you were the one who pulled the trigger. You jumped the gun. And Starscream, in his attempt at manipulating the crew to do his bidding, took the blame.

"You told one other person. The only one who would have shared your suspicion. The only one who would suspect that Starscream was playing a long game. Not even Octane knew about this. I know; I asked, roundabout."

Sandstorm stared at the felinoid, slack-jawed, before forming words from nonsensical syllables. "But...you didn't know about the Lost Light — "

"No, because somewhere between the Legion Conflict and my current timeline, we branched." Gone was the straight-backed posture; her shoulders had rolled forward, leaning in as though brokering a shady deal. "I didn't mean to mislead you; I wanted to learn more about what had happened between when we parted ways as Wreckers and now. I still don't know why we're here, other than the _Lost Light_ — specifically, its quantum generator — is the common denominator. The _Lost Light_ in our timeline should not be there; it never existed, or at least it never existed under the Autobot banner. Everything we've told you is true. Some things we were hesitant to reveal at first, but at this point, we've already been past the branch where things had changed. We can't affect this timeline, it appears." She furrowed her brow. "As I understand the nerds."

 _That's definitely my Art._ "And Octane knew...?"

"Yeah, though he figured it out by narrowing it down by the fact that I'm a Maximal — Autobot — comfortable around him. And seeing that it was a toss up between me, Cav, and some weigh station attendant in the Hydrus system...." She shook her head with a grin. "He guessed accurately."

"Always about the femmes," Sandstorm smirked, but briefly. "So, what would happen if you crossed paths with yourself?"

"Already did that," Pantera shrugged. "Found myself with a big hole in my chest. As Artemis, which means I shouldn't be sitting here if it were from my timeline. Which started this whole mess in the first place."

"Yeah, that is fragged up." He sighed, leaning back. "So, Prime, what's the plan now?"

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," she warned, but with fondness. "But right now, it's information gathering, looking for clues to where the _Lost Light_ is heading. Hunt it down. Prevent a massacre. That sort of thing. If we can stop that, our timeline — even if we can't go back — may be saved from being ripped apart." She flashed fang. "As I understand the nerds."

Sandstorm relaxed, at least visually. "Good enough for me, then. I wish you told me earlier, though. I wouldn't have been such a gashole to you."

"We both have our reasons, and mine was that I didn't know what further more damage would happen. Time travel's a funny thing. Too many models, too many things could go wrong."

Octane leapt over the partition and landed in the seat next to Sandstorm. "Oh, good, you two are together. Look, found some intel — juicy intel. So there's a merc bar down the way, Demon affiliate — hear me out!" He held up his hands. "Figured I'd give it a go; worst case scenario, I do the 'whoops, wrong place!' and back out slowly, before running back to the ship, screaming for backup. Well, I hit the payload. They thought I was one of them. So!" he cracked his knuckles before leaning forward. Speaking in hushed tones, he revealed, "Someone hired some 'titan hunters. As in 'metrotitan', for our colony bumpkin. Only 'titan hunters still running with Demon colours is Lockdown and crew. Anywho, they got a aft-hurting after trying to obtain a ... well, thumb. A thumb that was on board — ready for this? — a U1 hop ship named — ba-dum-dum! — the _Lost Light_!"

"Octane, you magnificent bastard," Pantera laughed. "Did you get coordinates?"

"Not for the Lost Light, but me, being the magnificent bastard that I am — oh, you told him?"

"Focus, Oc." Pantera snapped her fingers. "Coordinates."

"Yeah, so while I didn't get anything about the _Ell-Ell_ , I did get the name of Lockdown's ship, as well as a comm link address. And you guys laughed at me for keeping the violet."

"I wouldn't say 'laugh', per se," Sandstorm muttered.

'Anywho, comm link to the Death's Head, which means that even without Brat's 'leet' programming skills, means we can track them. Admit it, I'm awesome."

"Dare I ask 'how'?"

Octane draped an arm over Sandstorm and leaned close to him. "Now, now, a mech never kisses and tells," he teased. "But!" Straightening, the larger triple-changer held up a digit. "Here's what we know: The _Ell-Ell_ was last checked in at Hedonia, about a decacycle ago; about a quarter stel ago, the _Death's Head_ crossed paths with the _Ell-Ell_ near Theophany, which, until recently, was the home of the Circle of Light."

"Wasn't they the religious nutters Roddy's friend Drift was part of?" Sandstorm questioned.

"By 'nutters', you mean scary-efficient Spectralist swordsmechs, right?" Octane countered. "And by Drift, he was scary-efficient as Deadlock. Compound that and I'm seeing a very-scary-efficient ex-'Con now-Autobot religious nutter. But I digress. So the Cee-Oh-Ell? Galactic Council reported that the colony had been abandoned as recently as half a stel ago, New Crystal City in ruins."

"Then we need to go to Theophany," Pantera suggested.

"No can do," Octane shook his head. "Galactic Council's got it under quarantine. No way we're going there anytime soon."

"So we don't know why the Lost Light was by Theophany," Sandstorm pointed out.

"But we know why and when they were on Hedonia," Octane added.

"We have more information than we did before," Pantera nodded. "We may be able to work with what we got. Let's get back to the ship and report these findings to Hellfire. Let him crunch the numbers."  

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER** : Unleash Hell


End file.
